


Saturated

by tattedmariposa



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-17
Updated: 2008-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:09:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattedmariposa/pseuds/tattedmariposa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a <a href="http://ooh-shinies.livejournal.com/523.html?thread=19467#t19467">prompt</a> on the (old) FE kink meme.  "FE9 or 10, IkeSoren, sex in the bathtub, please ♥"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturated

“I don't know how you talked me into this.”

“Give it a chance.” Ike playfully nudged Soren's foot with his own under the water that surrounded them both. Despite the way Soren insisted on huddling in the corner, his knees pulled up to his chest and chin resting on crossed arms, there was more than enough room for both of them to rest comfortably in the spacious bath. There were, admittedly, some perks to being holed up in Castle Crimea for the time being.

He frowned at Soren's decidedly uninteresting posture. “Since when are you so modest anyway?”

“I'm not,” Soren snapped back, but made no effort to change the way he was sitting. He glanced to the gathering of flickering flames that cast wavering shadows on the walls. “It's... a little bright in here.”

Ike smiled, amused. “Come on, Soren. It's not like we haven't seen each other like this before. You didn't seem to mind last-”

“That wasn't the same.” Soren glared at him over crossed arms. He looked away, just enough to the side to avoid Ike's amused glance. “...It was dark,” he muttered begrudgingly.

Ike gave an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes, but wore the same affectionate smile, and didn't say another word. A few well-directed breaths later and the room was dark, save for the pallid moonlight weakly filtering in through the lone window.

Soren watched the straight lines and flat planes of his arm moving together seamlessly as he stretched toward the flames, the way the thin sheen of water highlighted every divot of muscle in his back, and fleetingly wondered why the sight made him catch his breath.

“Is that better?” Ike asked, settling back into place.

He opened his mouth to reply, but finding no sound he nodded instead. He tentatively loosened his grip on his knees.

Ike slid a little further into the warm water. “Relax,” he said, his eyes closing. “The water's nice.” With a smirk and a casual flick of his wrist he sent some flying in Soren's direction.

That made Soren find his voice again quickly. “Don't be childish, Ike,” he said irately, and immediately contradicted himself by splashing back just a bit harder.

As he was naturally competitive and not one to be outdone, not even by Soren (most of the time, anyway), Ike splashed back at him with a childish grin, and within a few minutes later they were both soaked and breathless, Soren's long hair hanging in damp tangled tendrils. The cold stone floor was soaked, the walls across the room were splattered; everything was wet.

Soren made a point of inspecting the extent of the mess from his corner of the bath, and then pointedly glaring at Ike, conveniently ignoring that he was just as much at fault.

“Oh, it was worth it.” Ike shuffled forward a little. “It got you to loosen up a bit,” he said, reaching out to take Soren in his arms.

“I still don't understand why you wanted to do this.” He ducked his head stubbornly.

“And you always tell me that I need to use my head more,” Ike teased. He pulled Soren closer, so that Soren was nearly straddling his lap. His body was still rigid and unrelenting, still unconvinced. “Then I'll have to show you.” He reached for a sponge and some sweet-smelling soap that were resting innocently to the side, blissfully unaware of the debauchery they were soon to become a part of.

“You're going to wash me?” Soren looked unimpressed.

“Shush,” Ike silenced him with a kiss. His hands moved over Soren's body far more slowly than was necessary for a simple cleaning, gently spreading lather over slowly loosening shoulders and touching their lips together as he did the same to his back. It didn't take long before Soren was steadily giving in, entirely ready to admit that he was convinced by softening the sharp angles of his body to fit to Ike's, opening his mouth without hesitation when he felt a soft tongue flick against his lower lip.

Soren felt as though the air had gone from his lungs once again. “Ike,” he breathed. He couldn't quite bring himself to say that he was becoming more appreciative of Ike's idea with each passing second, but with another kiss it seemed to be enough.

Their bodies were not-quite flush, easily sliding together thanks to the thin slick of water and soap lather coating their skin. The sponge fell from Ike's hand into the bathwater, forgotten, as they kissed slowly and deeply. A dripping hand trailed the harsh angle of Soren's jaw, tangled briefly in the thick humid jungle of his hair, traced a shoulderblade as wet kisses on his neck made his shoulders tense and then relax even further. Ike lapped stray droplets from the hollow of Soren's collarbone, drew slow patterns on Soren's back heightened by his damp skin.

Soren moaned softly, hazy mind trying to direct his hands, trying to move Ike's hands where he wanted them most. He felt soft laughter against his skin and Ike murmured something about patience while tracing teasing lines on Soren's chest with wet fingers, enough to make him sag forward in Ike's embrace and sigh into his neck, leaving a few lazy kisses there.

Ike pushed him back just a bit, just enough to dip his head down to his chest, tracing the same patterns with his tongue, making Soren gasp in pleasure at the light bites he left there. Soren pushed his hips forward, whining Ike's name low in his throat, wanting to feel his friction against his own body.

He was stopped with a firm hand on his thigh and lips connecting back to his, their mouths open and moving against one another, trading subdued moans, before a hand dipped completely under the water, moving to stroke the soft submerged skin of his inner thigh, moving so slowly it almost burned Soren's soaked skin, so close to where he wanted.

Another low whine. “What do you want, Soren?” Ike asked, velvet dark voice and wet lips tingling the shell of his ear.

“Mmn, Ike...” Soren trailed off, eyes half-closed and unfocused, all of his concentration instead on the slow rhythm of his hand, the gentle, careful strength of the arm loosely around his shoulder - the only thing keeping him from giving out completely.

“Tell me,” he insisted, quiet but firm. “I want to hear you.”

When he forced himself to focus, the moonlight glinting off of Ike's lovely blue eyes and softly highlighting the curve of his neck and his matted damp hair was too much. His eyes closed, his slippery hands clinging to Ike's shoulders, barely aware of the words he was speaking. “Touch me,” he whispered.

Ike obliged, making Soren gasp and try to push closer, almost involuntarily, because it was good, so good, but he wanted more, wanted friction, wanted it faster, wanted-

“What else?” Soren caught himself at the sound of Ike's voice, biting his lip to stop more sound from escaping.

“You, I want you,” Soren breathed into the opposite crook of Ike's neck, aware of the way he reacted to the warm air on water-cooled skin, the slight gasp caught in his throat and muscle going taut. He could feel that it wouldn't be long before he got what he wanted, but he wasn't sure he could wait.

Ike twisted his wrist in just the right way; perhaps on purpose, perhaps a fortuitous accident, just enough to make Soren's eyes suddenly blink open and flutter shut again. “Keep going.”

“Teas-” Soren stopped short when Ike deftly tightened his grip, a sharp moan tearing from his lips. He breathed deeply, willing his voice steady to speaking again, much more softly this time, barely loud enough to hear himself. “...Want you inside of me.”

Ike's hand moved in the water again, differently now, forcing their flesh together. Whatever restraint Soren still possessed was nearly gone; wantonly pushing himself against Ike's body, not a breadth of air between them, Ike's name on his lips yet again.

“Say it,” Ike said roughly, straight into his ear, and Soren knew what he wanted to hear – as well as recognizing the tension in his voice; how badly he wanted this too.

“...Please, Ike, please.” Soren was breathing so heavily as they adjusted their positions, water sloshing messily and noisily around them, his head unable to lift itself from where he rested on Ike's shoulder. He felt utterly limbless; and wondered how he was going to find the strength to finish what they'd started, but determined to find a way.

But it worked – it always did, Soren reminded himself – somehow, Ike's hands tight on his hips, gripping hard enough to leave marks, and his own blunt fingernails digging little red crescents into Ike's shoulders.

There was no room for slowness anymore, they were sloppy and fast; desperate and greedy for more, despite finally having what they had both delayed for too long.

Soren looked straight into Ike's eyes, into that expanse of blue that he recreated in his mind all too often, and the look he found there - some compelling blend of desire and love and everything in between - made him nearly lose his final shred of cognizance. He leaned forward to close the short distance necessary to crash their mouths together in a messy, desperate kiss, and gladly gave up that little bit of self-control in return for the mindshattering sense of release and pure pleasure he received in return.

He let himself fall against Ike as they fought to regain his breath, and soon feeling that familiar twinge of regret at having to physically disentangle themselves, even if it was just for a moment. The water was starting to go a little cold, Soren noted absently as his fingertips brushed its slightly quivering surface, but he found that he didn't care all of that much. He pressed himself affectionately up to Ike, who pulled Soren a little tighter in his casual embrace and rested his chin on the top of Soren's head.

Soren's mind began to wander as the pleasant aftershocks gradually faded, and he signed deeply, enough for Ike to peer down at him in concern. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, tilting his head to meet Ike's eyes. “That's the problem. You know I hate being wrong.”

He received yet another amused, slightly exasperated smile. “It's not always a bad thing to be wrong.”

Soren started to reply, but his protests were quickly cut off with a kiss. He mentally conceded that it was quite a convincing argument after all.


End file.
